


Is He Late Again?

by Resistance



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: AU, Chicago Blackhawks, Dallas Stars, M/M, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:11:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2145129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resistance/pseuds/Resistance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler is tired of dealing with it, but Patrick has his ways of changing his mind.</p>
<p>The prompt was: <i>Patrick Kane/Tyler Seguin, strip club AU</i>, and I kinda took it in a strange direction. I hope you like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is He Late Again?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [armillarysphere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/armillarysphere/gifts).



“Is he late again?”

“What else is new?”

Tyler groaned, that’d mean he’d have to work late, _again_. He was regretting telling the guy he felt bad for him and that he’d cover for him when he needed it. It seemed like he _always_ needed it. They all knew Patrick had some stuff going on in his personal life and they all wanted to help, but most of the guys had given up on him by now. He was always coming in late and usually hungover. And he left early most mornings. He made good tips and was always willing to help out a guy that was behind on his rent, but even so, it was hard to deal with someone that didn’t pull their own weight.

He stuffed a handful of bills into the lockbox in his dufflebag and grabbed his hardhat. He had been doing a construction worker thing all week and it was already getting old. The cop hat had fit his head better and was easier to throw. The _thunk thunk thunk_ the hardhat made when it hit the stage always threw off his rhythm. On the upside, the workboots were easier to get out of than the cowboy boots he had to use three weeks ago. Don’t get him wrong, Tyler liked his job, but sometimes the ever changing themes got on his nerves.

“I’m tellin’ the boss.”

Tyler sighed, “No, don’t say anything. I’ll go out.”

“How many times are you gonna cover for him?”

“At least one more. Mind your own business, Jamie.” Tyler brushed by him, tossing his robe towards his station and headed for the stage. The DJ quickly switched tracks, and very familiar music boomed through the speakers. _He owes me,_ Tyler thought before he put his game face on and stepped onto the stage.

_About 9am….._

Ring, ring, ring.

Tyler rolled over and grabbed for his phone. He answered it without checking the caller ID, only one person would call at this hour, “Yeah?”

“Hey, Ty. Did I wake you up?” Patrick was slurring his words again. Lately, Tyler was having a hard time remembering what Patrick’s normal voice sounded like, it seemed his words were _always_ slurred.

He flopped onto his back, sprawling across his empty bed, “Yeah, you did. I got home at five. I had to work _late_ again. Where were you?”

“Uh… I met this guy….”

Tyler groaned. It was _always_ some guy. He’d get drunk with him, go back to his place for the night, and end up without his wallet or his phone or both. He might consider him his best friend, but he knew Patrick had the worst taste in men in the history of the planet. “You’re calling me, so he didn’t steal your phone this time. That’s something.”

“That only happened once!”

“Four times.”

“Really?”

“Yes. So what do you need this time? Cab fare?” Tyler snickered a little.

“Oh fuck you, you know I’m not allowed to take cabs for eighty-four more days! Asshole.”

Tyler knew well the court’s order. After all, he had been the one that put up his bail money and the one that had hired his attorney and the one that had driven him back and forth to the court dates. Patrick was lucky he didn’t get time in lock-up for being that dumb. The judge had just moralized at him for twenty minutes before letting him go with a fine (that Tyler had paid) and his order of not hailing a cab for ninety days. Patrick had lost his license for two years about six months prior for being an idiot, which left Tyler to drive him around unless Patrick could pick up a guy with a car.

“Yeah, yeah, so what do you need?”

“I kinda…. I don’t know where I am.”

Tyler groaned, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. “Go outside, look for street signs.” It was an old routine. Tyler grabbed for a pair of boxers and the jeans he’d tossed on the floor last night when he was too tired to care. He dressed silently as he listed to Patrick tell him the landmarks around the street corner he was standing on. It took about five minutes before Tyler picked up on something he recognized and cut him off, “Okay, stay there, I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, Ty. I’ll buy you coffee, okay?”

“You have cash?”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

Tyler wasn’t surprised, “Fine, I’ll buy you breakfast, too, but you really owe me.”

Patrick sighed deeply, “I know, I really do. I owe you so much.”

Patrick’s tone was so sincere that Tyler found it hard to stay mad at him. Well, that and the way he smiled. Tyler found himself thinking about the way Patrick smile when he was on stage far too often. And his hair, the curls at the back of his neck. And—Tyler smacked himself mentally. He was starting to sound like an idiot teenager and there was nothing worse than that.

It took him just under his projected twenty minutes to find the street corner where Patrick was sitting. He pulled up to the curb and rolled down the passenger’s side window, “Hey, how much for the night?”

Patrick had been looking down at his phone and snapped his head up, ready to give whoever it was a piece of his mind. Spotting Tyler in the car, his whole face broke out into a big dimpled grin and he jumped to his feet. Tyler felt his stomach do far too many summersaults to ignore. He took in a deep breath to calm himself by the time Patrick got to the car.

He yanked the passenger’s side door open, sliding in, “You couldn’t afford me.”

“I worked a _double_ last night, I’m loaded.” Tyler gave him a pointed smile.

Patrick’s smile faded, “Yeah, about that…. “

Tyler waved him off, pulling out into traffic, “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, look, we hafta talk.” He shifted in his seat, looking over to Tyler. Tyler kept his eyes on the road, and gripped the steering wheel a little harder. Patrick sighed, “You’ve covered for me two nights this week. And—“

“Three.”

“What?”

“It’s been three nights this week. Two last week.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, like I was saying, you covered for me _three_ nights this week and I really can’t thank you enough. I’m not going to miss any more time, though. I promise.”

Half of Tyler’s mouth curled up into a smile, “Yeah?”

“I swear.”

“You said the same thing two weeks ago. And three weeks before that. You’ve promised nine times, as a matter of fact. This makes ten. And you haven’t kept it yet.”

“But this time I will.”

Patrick reached over a rested a hand on Tyler’s knee and just like that, it didn’t matter if he was telling the truth or not, Tyler believed him. He stole a glance over to him and shook his head but he smiled, “Okay. Maybe this time you really will.”

“I _will_. Hey, do you mind if we skip breakfast? We could go back to your place instead.”

Tyler knew that look in his eyes well. That you’re-going-to-be-dancing-funny-tomorrow look. And it worked every time. Every single time. “I’m not mad at you. You don’t have to.”

“I want to. I miss you.” He slid his hand further up Tyler’s leg, slipping between them to rub his thigh. Tyler spread his legs a little more by way of permission and Patrick’s hand went immediately to grope him. Tyler bit his bottom lip but the moan escaped anyway. Patrick had fantastic hands and he knew exactly how to drive him crazy. He opened his legs more, stepping harder on the gas. “Let me make it up to you, baby.”

Tyler groaned a little, but nodded. As if he was going to give a different answer. That he was head over heels for Patrick everyone knew, but that usually just earned him pity smiles from the rest of the guys at the club. Patrick never showed affection for Tyler except in those rare nights when he felt the need to ‘make up’ for everything Tyler did for him. That Patrick cared for him, he didn’t doubt, but he wished he would show it more often, in ways that weren’t strictly sexual. But at the moment, sex was the only thing on either of their minds.

They made it up to Tyler’s apartment in record time and by the time the door was locked, Patrick had pulled both of their shirts off. He dragged his fingernails over the tattoos on Tyler’s arms and chest, earning him even more moans. Tyler wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed him roughly, to match the scratches. Their tongues fought against each other for dominance, but in the end Patrick would take control, as he always did, and Tyler would let him.

Patrick pushed him back towards the bedroom, trailing clothes as they went. As his back hit the bed, Tyler remembered swearing to himself that he’d say no the next time Patrick did this, but there was less than zero chance of that happening in that moment. Patrick moved over him, smirking, meeting his eyes, “Fuck, you look good like that, Ty.” He leaned in to bite on the pulse point on the side of his neck and Tyler moaned by way of reply. He arched his back to press against Patrick’s body and all of his resolve was completely gone.

Hours later, after the sheets had been yanked off the bed and were heaped on the floor, Tyler lay on his back on the bare mattress, trying to catch his breath without much success. Patrick knew every single button to press and had no qualms with pressing each one of them, multiple times. He was half draped over Tyler, sound asleep. If Tyler opened his eyes, he could see the sweat-matted curls at the back of Patrick’s neck, which was why his eyes were closed tightly. He was exhausted, but wide awake, silently chastising himself for falling right back into Patrick’s trap. But no matter how many times he swore he wouldn’t do it, he knew full well, he’d do it every single time those dimples smiled at him. He was a complete sucker for him and there was nothing he could do about it. Even if he wanted to.

Tyler moved out from under Patrick, careful not to wake him, and made his way to the shower. It was just past noon and he was due at his other job in less than two hours. He could probably have quit by now, he was making good money at the club, but he liked spending time at the rink and getting extra money for it didn’t hurt. Especially since he had to support himself and Patrick, when he needed it. And lately he always needed it. Not that Tyler didn’t get anything back from it. He wasn’t complaining. As the shower water sprayed over his tired muscles, he felt the sting of each and every place Patrick’s nails had broken skin. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that the familiar pain made him smile.

After throwing on track pants and a t-shirt, he scribbled a quick note for Patrick, telling him to help himself to anything in the kitchen and pointing out that he’d see him at the club that night. And he signed it ‘Ty’. Patrick was the only person that called him that and he liked it. He hated that he liked it, but he did like it. He left enough money for Patrick to take the bus downtown, but added that if he was ready by eight, he’d swing by and pick him up. He doubted he’d be ready.

He took a long look at Patrick, sound asleep in his bed, before locking his apartment door and heading down to his car. He was a little slower on the stairs than he wanted to be, but even that made him smile.


End file.
